Broken Heart Destiny
by operaghost517
Summary: Isabeau was destined for misfortune from day one, though she has finally found comfort in Kevin. When she is kidnapped and taken to an underground kingdom, everything she ever knew is tested, and everthing she ever loved may change.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This is my first fanfic for Hollow Kingdom Trilogy. It's pretty slow at first, but don't worry, it gets better! Please read and review!! **

My name is Isabeau Mallory Diedre, and this is my story.

I was destined for bad luck from day one for no other reason than my name. First of all, what kind of name is _Isabeau?_ I could have had a normal name, Isabelle would have been perfect. "Consecrated to God" is its meaning. I think I could have lived up to that name. No, instead my mother wanted to be "original" and decided to make it Isabeau. That's not even the worst. Diedre is Celtic for broken hearted. Great. The blame lies with my father there. As if all of that isn't bad enough, my parent's decided to name me after my grandmother, Mallory. Thanks, Gram, you cursed me with your name meaning _bad luck_! All this added up to one thing. From the moment I could think I lived by this rule: If it can go wrong, it will go wrong.

It seems strange to most people, but I've always found that much can be determined about a person by their name. It molds them into who they are. Which is why I wasn't thrilled with mine. That is a mild way of putting it, to say the least. I have three siblings, a sister and two brothers. We live in a comfortable home about two miles out of London, England. I wish I could say we are a happy family, full of love and compassion for one another. That would be a lie, though, and I try never to lie.

Let me give you a brief description of my family. My mother, Maya, is a simple woman beat down by life. Her hair was once a lustrous mahogany, but has been streaked with gray and faded to a dull mud. My father is a serious man whose face is etched with lines from worry, strife, and a simple lack of smiling. Colista and Keene are nineteen-year-old twins. Keene is scholarly, preferring pouring over textbooks to having any sort of communication with the rest of us. Colista is beautiful, and she knows it. She uses it, and constantly reminds me that I can't match up to her in looks. Carlin, my eight-year-old brother, is perhaps my favorite of my siblings. He's a darling little boy, and my constant companion throughout my many adventures.

"Izzy!" Carlin screeches, his reddish brown hair tumbling into his eyes as he scrambles into my lap.

"What's wrong, Carl?" I question, scanning my eyes over him quickly to check for an injury. I was almost ten when Carlin was born, my mother past her prime years and tired of life. I had filled in role of mother most of his life, and fiercely protect my little brother.

"Keene told me to be quiet because I would never be a scholar like him, and Colista said… said…"

"What'd she say, sweetie?"

He looked up at me with sad brown eyes and whispered, "Said Penny would never like me because I was ugly and short." He buries his face in my shoulder and I hold him tight. I couldn't believe Colista! Carl had liked his classmate Penny for months, they had been best friends for a while. He confessed to me the other day he liked her and I told him to bring her flowers, but Colista was ruining everything!

I sit Carlin up and look at his eyes, seeing my own dark blue ones reflected in his. "Carlin, you are not ugly. You are the handsomest boy I ever saw."

He sniffles. "Even Kevin?" he asks, making me blush. Kevin is my beau.  
"Even Kevin" I promise. "And Penny will love the flowers you picked her. Why don't you give them to her now? Here," I say, untying the purple ribbon holding back my chocolate covered curls. "Tie them up in this."

He gives me a quick peck on the cheek and takes off at a run. I sigh. I wish all my problems were as easy to mend as his. Raising myself to my feet with a grunt, I head back toward the house, searching for my sister. I walk in the yellow front door and turn left to head to our bedroom. She is where I expect her: in front of the mirror.

"Collie," I say reprovingly.

She turns to give me an exasperated glare. "What now?" she complains, knowing my tone.

"You can't say those things to Carlin! He's just a little kid! You can't tell him he is ugly, or that Penny won't like him, Collie. That's just cruel."

Colista merely continues brushing out her hip length auburn hair. She pouts her full lips in the mirror, watching me with an unabashed expression. "Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm not cruel, just honest. Have you seen his nose? All crooked!" she says, tweaking her own nose with a satisfied smile. I open my mouth to reply nastily, but she cuts me off. "And it's not Collie. It's Colista."

"I've called you Collie since I was two years old."

"Well, Raymond doesn't like me being nicknamed after a dog," she replies, naming her latest suitor. "You would do well to change yours too, _Izzy._"

I lift my chin defiantly. "Thank you for your concern, but I believe I'll make that choice myself." I turn and march out of the room, desperate to leave her company. With father at his office in town, mother visiting our neighbors, and Colista being insufferable, I don't really have much option of anyone else to be with. Interrupting Keene from his studies is a fantastic way to get your ear talked off, so I don't really fancy that.

I walked out into the yard, observed its disarray. Every fall Mother said she was going to fix it in the spring, and every spring she said she was much to busy. The swing my father put up to keep us outdoors and away from him is still intact, and I sit down on in with a lonely sigh.

"Ah, Izzy," comments a voice behind me. I smile without turning around, knowing exactly who it is. "What are your plans for this fine day?"

"I thought perhaps to sulk," I respond casually. He grips the rope of the swing, pulling it back and releasing me into the air. I giggle in delight. "But as it seems you have already ruined those plans…"

He stops the swing and draws close to me, out faces inches apart. "And what would such a beautiful lady as you have to sulk about?" My face melts into contentedness. No one makes me feel the way Kevin does. As if being me is enough.

I lean my head on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes it does," he tells me, stroking my hair with a comforting hand.

I shake my head. "Let's just enjoy the moment, not dwell on the past."


	2. Chapter 2

**Little more intrigue here... Hope you enjoy! R&R!**

**P.S..... Read my other story, "No Safe Choices" under _A Great and Terrible Beauty._  
**

Kevin Crossely is the epitome of the perfect man. He has sandy blonde hair that he always manages to keep in artful disarray. His brown eyes sparkle with excitement constantly, though he maintains an aura of mystery about him. When I met him three years ago, when I was fourteen, I didn't expect him to look my way twice. I was an average girl going through an awkward time. My limbs were twiggy, my hair frizzy, and my teeth gapped. I was shy, too, and blushed every time he looked at me.

He came to me when no one else would and we became fast friends. I didn't feel anything romantic toward him until much later, but his friendship meant—and still means—more to me than I can ever explain. He fixed a whole in my heart made by constantly being shoved to the side inside my own home.

"Izzy," he calls from his spot in the middle of the river. We had walked down to it earlier, and now he had waded in. His pants are rolled up past his knees, and I can barely see his tan leg beneath them. "Come out here with me, the water's lovely."

I laugh and kick my foot out, splashing him with water. "I think not! Mother would kill me if I ruined this dress too!"

"Hey, that last one wasn't my fault" he defends himself, referring to the time last week where I had come home with my hem covered in mud up to almost my knees.

"Oh yes," I retort playfully, "Of course it wasn't…"

He splashes me back and I shriek and scamper back from the riverbank. Chuckling, he follows me and grabs me around the waist. I fall back on him, breathless with laughter. "Let me go," I whine.

"For a kiss I will."

I lean down and attempt to give him a quick peck, but he holds me in his strong grip for several long moments. Not that I fought too hard.

When he releases me, I jump up and reach for his hand. "Let's head back, they'll be wondering where I am." At least Carlin would. I'm not so sure the rest of them would notice if I was gone for the entire night.

Strolling hand in hand with Kevin is enough to lift even my sullen spirits, and I can't help from smiling all the way home. When we reach my home I can't even be enticed out of my good mood by the sight of Keene sitting in the main room with piles of books out. This usually means he is trying to solve something, and is going to talk a great deal about it. By a great deal, I mean _incessantly. _

"Hello, Keene," Kevin greets him. Keene barely glances up, instead scribbling away on some piece of parchment in front of him.

"What are you working on?" I ask, dropping Kevin's hand reluctantly and coming to peer over his shoulder.

"A girl has gone missing."

A chill comes over me and Kevin comes to wrap his arms protectively around my shoulders. There were rumors of kidnappings every few years. We all knew the dangerous reputation this land had. Every so often girls would just disappear without a trace. We were all encouraged never to go out alone at night, for that might be the last anyone ever saw of us.

"Who?" I choke out, mentally running through all the girls I knew.

"A Miss Audrey Alexander."

I know Audrey! She is a year or two older than me, but had always been kind. She was soft spoken, like me, though was quite popular among the boys.

"When did this happen?" Kevin demands.

"Her parents couldn't find her this afternoon after sending her to town the day before. They assumed she had just spent the night there, but after searching for her found no one in the town had seen her."  
"Is it possible she…er…went off…with someone?" Kevin asks.

"Anything is possible at this point," Keene replies grimly. Such a scholar as my brother was often called upon when something of this sort occurred. His knowledge was extremely useful when it came to solving a mysterious event like this.

"What are you looking at now?" I say, glancing at the papers strewn about before him.

"Other disappearances. See here," he says, picking up one, "The most recent one was ten years ago, but quite a large distance from here, at a place called Hollow Hill."

"I know of it," interjects Kevin, but Keene plows on.

"Yes, there have been many in that area, actually. One of the biggest scandals was the disappearance of Miss Adele Roberts, the owner's daughter. Then, about sixty years later, in the same spot a Miss Kate Winslow disappeared! Her sister Emily too! The only rhyme or reason to any of this is that they are all young women who are unmarried and have made the mistake of traveling alone. Is it just coincidence? Did they meet an untimely end? Or simply run away? Or is there some other power behind this, kidnapping our women? I cannot find a single text that might hint as to what may be occurring." Keene rubs his fingers against his temples in frustration.

Kevin looks around thoughtfully, seeming about to say something. "Have you ever heard any of the old myths of this region?" he asks. I nod, and Keene looks disgusted. He holds no truth by legends that can't be proven. "Have you heard the ones about goblins?"

"Not really," I respond. "Of course, we've all heard a little. All mothers use them to get their children to behave. 'Come in before dark or the goblins will get you!' and such."

Kevin nods his head and continues. "I grew up a few miles from Hollow Hill, so the stories of goblins and elves were still circulating when I left. It's said that they take young girls back to their hideous underground kingdom to be their bride's. It the dark, damp caves, they are forced to bear terrifying goblin children, and are forever imprisoned under layers of rock. They say most don't survive." I give an unintentional whimper of fear. Kevin gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I don't know how much of this is true, but that's what I've always been taught. That's why the girl's won't go out alone, you couldn't pay one of them enough to step foot outside after the sun goes down! At least until they're married. For some reason girls were safe after they were married."

"You think a goblin got Audrey?" I question in a hushed whisper.

"I have no idea. I'm just putting the idea out there.

"Yes, well, thank you for your idea," snaps Keene rather rudely. "If you don't mind, I'm going to get back to the facts now."

I walk Kevin to the door. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, "I don't know what is happening, but please be careful."

"I will," I promise, only for him. I know how to take care of myself, but I like that he worries about me. With a quick peck on my cheek, he's out the door walking into the rapidly setting sun. I know all the stories say only girls are at risk, but please, oh please let him be safe in the dark tonight.

I turn back to face the inside of the room. Keene is already absorbed in his work again, and I have no idea what to do. "Isabeau!" someone yells from the kitchen. I hadn't realized my mother was home already.

"Coming!" I call back. I enter to find my mother in the cramped kitchen with Carlin jumping around excitedly, trying to describe his day to her.

"I'm trying to prepare dinner, but your brother is making that very difficult," she complains, nearly tripping over an uneven tile in the ground. "Carlin! Move!" she orders.

I grab his hand and gently tug him toward the door. "Come on, Carl," I suggest, "Let's talk in my room." His face falls briefly when he realizes mother doesn't want to hear about his day. I smooth away his hair and lead him to the room I share with Colista. By the time we reached the door, he was bouncing with anticipation again.

"Izzy! I did it," he exclaims.

"What'd you do?" I ask, though I knew it had to do with Penny. I just wanted him to have the full glory of reciting his tale to me.

"I gave her the flowers. She loved them? And then, guess what I did! I _kissed _her, Izzy! Right here!" he cries in joy, pointing to his own dimpled cheek. I give him a hug, laughing at his enthusiasm. He is too happy to be contained, however, and is out my door again in a flurry of movement.

Left on my own, I contemplate all I have learned today. I try to dredge up the few memories I have of goblin lore, but I can't remember much. I vaguely remember hearing how grotesque they are, neither man nor beast. I know they like dark—all evil creatures do. Other than that, I'm stumped. Perhaps Kevin knows more. I wish I had thought to ask him today. Oh, I'm so worried for Audrey! Perhaps this will all have been a huge misunderstanding. Maybe she went to the wrong town, though Brighton is the only one within walking distance…

I'm called for dinner about half an hour later, and forced to suffer through my sister's petty complaints about trivial things. I really want to hear more about Audrey.

"Father, have you heard anything more about Audrey Alexander?" I inquire.

He grunts, "Keene told you about that, then? No I haven't. Talked to her father though. I can't stand that man. He thinks he is so much better than us, always acting so high and mighty." Mr. Alexander, incidentally, is the town's pastor, and doesn't act at all as my father portrays him. My father dislikes anyone who is preferred to him, which is why he hates most of our town.

"Aren't you worried?" I continue. He merely shrugs his shoulders. "Father!" I reprimand him.

"Now Isabeau," scolds my mother.

"Kevin says it might be goblins. He says they come for young, unmarried girls like Audrey," I add.

Colista looks up, fear flickering in her eyes. Carlin bursts into tears. "I don't them to get Collie or Izzy!" he wails.

"Hush, Isabeau!" my mother admonishes me again.

"I'm just telling the truth," I retort.

Carlin's wails raise a pitch. "Go to your room, Isabeau!" orders my mother. "You are disrupting this table!"

I stalk off to my room and slam to the door, turning the lock as I do. Let Colista find somewhere else to sleep tonight. The night air is warm, but I close my window and latch it too before undressing and climbing into my bed.

My dreams that night are haunted by figures garmented in black, their faces obscured by thick cloaks. I feel for certain that underneath lie atrocities that I cannot begin to imagine. They cackle horrendously, chanting, "You'll be next, Isabeau Mallory Diedre!"

I wake with a start as my flailing arm knocks over a candle. My breathing is heavy and I'm drenched in sweat. _It was just a dream. It was just a dream. _I repeat this mantra over and over; hoping to convince myself it is true. However, I cannot shake the eerie feeling that I am being watched.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A little déjà vu toward the end here…Things start to pick up in this chapter. Hope you enjoy! Please, please read and review! **

**P.S. The characters are made up by me, however, they live in the world created by the fabulous Clare B. Dunkle**

It's been weeks, and still no sign of Audrey. I am exhausted. I haven't been sleeping soundly, constantly plagued by nightmares frightening enough to rival the worst horror novel. Purple bags surround my eyes, and everybody has noticed my change in attitude, especially Kevin.

"Isabeau, please tell me what's wrong." His face is etched with concern and I wish with all my heart I could just sink into his arms and be comforted as I once was.

I shake my head, brushing wisps of my hair away from my face wearily. "Nothing." My voice is choked. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I am certain he doesn't believe me. "I just haven't been sleeping well."

"I can see that. Why?"

I press my hand to my forehead. _Because I feel like I'm being watched. Because I'm worried about Audrey. Because I'm scared. Because I don't want to be next. _"I'm fine, Kevin."

I turn to walk back to my the house—we had been standing in my front yard—but he grabbs me and pulls me into a soothing hug. I lay my head on his shoulder and breath in his familiar scent. Everything about Kevin is familiar, comforting, safe.

"You're not fine," he breathes into my hair. "I wish you would tell me what's wrong. I'll always be here for you, Izzy. I love you."

"I love you too."

He kisses my forehead sweetly and releases me. I am almost relieved. I do truly love Kevin, but sometimes he makes me feel…inadequate. I know that is the last thing he ever means to do, but I can't help feeling so. He is so wonderful, and I am so completely flawed.

The wind whips my face, sending my hair spiraling in all directions. I draw my shawl tighter over my shoulders, its fraying gray fabric a thin shield against the cooling weather. "Izzy!" called a voice from behind me.

"Hey, Carlin," I say without even looking. He was the only one in my family who called me by my preferred nickname.

"Mama says you'll get sick standing out in the cold." His eyes are wide and worried. "Will you come inside, please?"

I sigh. "Sure, Carl." Though rather reluctantly. I am not at all eager to return to my family. However, I couldn't resist his sweet face, which instantly brightened as soon as I acquiesced.

"Papa says we are having company today. Someone from," his face screws up in concentration as he tries to remember, "Hole Hill…Holly Hill…"

"Hollow Hill?" I ask, my pulse quickening slightly.

"That's it, Izzy! How'd you know?"

"Oh, I'm just that smart," I reply absentmindedly. Would I perhaps be able to get some answers, finally? Some conformation that what I believe to be so actually is. I reach for his hand, wrapping my chilled fingers in his cold ones. "Let's go, Carl."

The house is warm from a fire blazing brilliantly at the hearth. Keene sits reading in the armchair in the corner. Nothing that can help Audrey, however. He dropped that case long ago. After about a week, everyone seemed just to decide there was nothing more to do to help. I was the only one who still seemed to think there was something that could be done.

"Isabeau," I hear my father's drawl calling to me from his small workroom. He owns a shipping company, and often travels for weeks at a time. When he is home, he needs a workspace, hence him taking over my room and forcing me to share with Collie.

"Coming, Father," I say. I find him sitting in his armchair, spectacles perched on his nose and looking over some papers.

"I'm having a business acquaintance over today. This could be a very good thing for my company. If this goes well, I will receiving a significant amount more of money." I retain my snort of derision. _Money._ Is that all that matters to him? "I'll just get straight to the point, then. _Do not mess this up for me._" His tone is menacing, and I lament the fact that fathers can still beat their children, though fortunately with a stick no larger than their thumb.

"How would I do that?"

"Let's just say I do not want another one of your table tantrums."

My eyes narrow, but I don't snap back as I would like to. "I'll try not to disappoint you," I say, seething.

I make my way back to my room, and find Colista already there, meticulously brushing her hair. She is wearing a very pretty pink dress that brings out the pink of her cheeks and contrasts nicely with her hair. Overall she presents an image of ethereal beauty, one that I can't help being jealous of.

"You look nice," I tell her, trying to make nice. She flashes me a superior smile.

"I know," she responds, standing up and twirling.

"What's the point?" I ask. "It's just another one of Father's 'business opportunities.'"

She gave me a pitying glance. "He is _rich, _of course."

Ah, that explained it. "And you are hoping to seduce him with your charisma and pleasant demeanor?"

"Funny, real witty," she retaliates with a scowl. "Here I was prepared to offer to help you look at _least _presentable, and you have to go insulting me!"

"I'd never dream of insulting you, Collie!" I claim, lifting my hands in mock horror. I'm feeling sadistic, for some reason. "Not that it would penetrate your thick head if I did," I mutter. She huffs angrily and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Finally I'm left with relative quiet.

I decide to change, figuring it will make Father pleased even if I don't want Colista to have the satisfaction of seeing me taking her advice and dressing up. In this man, rich or not. Kevin is all I needed. I wish he was here with me now; it would make this night so much more bearable.

I've just finished tying the sash to my pale green dress when there is a smart knock on the door. I hurry into the main room, praying silently for this night to be painless, and that I'll get some answers.

Two men stand in the doorway, a young man and a rather old one. Personally, I think the young man is rather unremarkable. His lank hair falls in dark wisps around in high forehead, and his eyes are a dull blue, almost gray. His mouth is turned down in what appears to be an eternal frown, and his posture suggests being brought up to believe he is better than the rest of us.

He resembles his father, who stands by with his nose turned up haughtily. When Carlin comes tumbling in with dirt smudges on his hands and face the man pulls out a handkerchief, as if just being near this innocent—albeit dirty—boy could taint his perfectly washed figure.  
Colista seems to share none of these opinions with me. She is already sidling up to the young man, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. I hold back a sickened snort, instead walking forward to introduce myself.

"Mr. Richard Rafferty, Mr. Val Rafferty," says my father, gesturing to the man and his son, "My youngest daughter, Isabeau."

"Pleasure," replies Mr. Richard shortly. His son barely nods, so absorbed is he in my sister's beguiling ways. I give a sardonic smile and turn to walk into the kitchen where Mother is preparing dinner. Her hair is piled elegantly on her head and she stirs the soup carefully, though looking a little harried.

"Isabeau, thank goodness you are here," she says, untying her apron and shoving it my hands. I had been just about to sit at one of the uneven stools in the corner, but am forced to vacate my seat as she blows by, "Tend to the soup. It is terribly rude of me to not have been waiting for our guests, but I just couldn't leave the dinner alone."

She hurries out the door, not giving me time to reply. I pick up the wooden spoon with a sigh and begin to stir, praying this time is not so much a disaster as the last time Mother asked me to cook. I smile slightly, recalling the image of Mother's face as she took a look at the kitchen, walls strewn with food, and me, covered in head to foot and holding back hysterical laughter. I wasn't allowed out for a week after that little episode.

Twenty minutes later finds us seated at the table slurping on our soup. I sit next to Colista, who is immersed in conversation with Val. Father and Mr. Richard already are heatedly negotiating, and mother pretends to be interested. I decide to take my chance asking Val a question or two first, before I interrupt the imposing force of his father.

"Tell me, Mr. Richard," I say when Colista takes a break to eat a small portion of her soup. "What is Hollow Hill like? I hear it is quite lovely."

"Mm, yes. Lovely," he says, his eyes still on Colista. I think that would have been the end of my interrogation, but luckily Colista picks it up for me. I think she wants to hear what her future home may be like.

"Oh, Mr. Richard," she admonishes him in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Do tell more! Is the Hall grand?"

"Very much so," he responds, in a much more talkative mood with this new partner. I don't mind, but fix my ears to listening. "It has many rooms, all finely furnished. It has been recently refurbished, though all the old paintings remain."

"Oh, paintings! Do tell me what your favorite is!" For all her faults, Collie is a true admirer of art.

"Well, I do enjoy the battle ones," he says impressively. "Though I think the most interesting one would be of the two girls."

"Go on," I chime in, wondering where this is going.

"There names were Elizabeth and…let's see...Adela? Adelaide? Something of the sort."

"Adele?" I ask in a scared whisper.

"That's the one. Adele Roberts. Yes. I find their picture intriguing because of the mystery that surrounds it."

"Oh, Mr. Richard," Colista says, "Don't frighten me with talk of mystery!"

"Hush, Collie," I order. "Please, do tell."

He seems slightly shocked at my rude manor toward my sister, but he doesn't comment. "Well, her father—his name escapes me—adopted Miss Elizabeth, and the two girls were fast friends. One day, Elizabeth returned without Miss Adele. Her father took the other girl away that night. No one ever found Miss Adele, but many mysteries cropped up around her disappearance. Foremost among them was that she was kidnapped by goblins!" He gives a shout of laughter, as if such a thing were completely impossible.

"Goblins?" I ask, feigning ignorance. I give a small chuckle, "Surely not!"

"Yes it is most ridiculous. Legend has it that goblins have haunted this area for centuries. And elves too!" He hoots with laughter.

"But what happened to her, then?" I ask, bringing him back to reality.

He sobers at this. "I don't know. It is disturbing, because Miss Kate and Emily Winslow disappeared as well from the same area." I was getting chills now, for these were the same names my brother had mentioned earlier. I start to mention Audrey's disappearance, but Colista cuts me off. She had been pouting, irritated to not be the center of attention.

"My. Richard, I seem to have dropped my earring, would you mind terribly helping me find it?" I roll my eyes at this pathetic attempt, but Mr. Richard seems more than willing. I wonder how long it will take to fall completely under her spell.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Wow i know it has been SO long! Sorry... Writer's block, end of school craze, vacation, sorry! I'll try to update sooner now. Enjoy, read and review!**

Within a week we are packing our bags to journey to Hollow Hill for the joyous union of a Miss Colista Diedre and Mr. Val Richard. Even I am shocked by the hastiness. I hadn't realized Collie could secure his affections _that _quickly.

Mother and Father are of course in high spirits. Their oldest—and favorite—daughter is to marry a wealthy man. Which needless to say secures Father's business proposal, for what is a few pounds "between family?" I'll be suffering the whole time. Cooped up in a house with only my family to occupy me, no Kevin to comfort me, I don't know what I'll do.

He is here with me now, watching me from my bed as I pack my scant clothing. He pushes a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. "Izzy," he says, opening his arms for me. I fall into them easily, happy to be somewhere I feel safe. "Do you want me to come?" he asks.

I fight back every instinct I have to say, _Yes! Come with me! I need you! _Instead, I shake my head. "No, Kevin. I'll be all right. Besides, your family needs you more than I do."

He pushes me back, holding me at arms length and examining me for a moment before once again drawing me close and breathing into my hair, "Be careful."

I smile against his chest. "For you, I will." I wouldn't admit to him what I was planning on doing. I wanted to discover what had happened to poor Audrey. Whatever the police may say, I didn't believe that she had eloped. No, I believed it was kidnapping of the worst sort.

"Good," he murmurs, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

The carriage jolts along the uneven road, making me feel nauseous. One hour into this journey and already I don't think I can take another minute. All our baggage is piled up in the back of the fancy carriage the Richards provided, but between my mother and Colista, so much had been packed that a few suitcases had to me laid—of course—at my feet. Carlin's head rests on my lap, and I run my hand through his soft hair while staring out the window, trying to imagine what the next few days might have in store for me.

For the next while, I doze in and out of consciousness, until Colista's shrill voice rouses me.

"Ooooh!" Collie squeals, peering excitedly out the window. "I can see Hollow Lake! You'll probably be able to see the Hall soon. I'm going to be mistress of that hall," she adds smugly. I fight back a rude retort, contenting myself with making a face no one could see. Or so I thought. I feel my mother's cold glare on me, and force an abashed look across my face.

When we finally pull into the paved driveway fifteen minutes later, I am thoroughly relieved to be separated from my family. Val and his father are waiting for us, standing tall as statues in front of the magnificent Hall. I'm quite intimidated by its imposing features. With them stands a woman I can only assume is Val's mother, the Mrs. Richard. She has Val's same cold eyes framed by thin lashes and dark, dull hair. She stands stiff and stern, arms crossed firmly behind her back.

I stumble out of the carriage, attended by no one, but Val rushes over quickly to help my sister, who feigns tripping ever so slightly, so that he grips her around the waist to keep her standing. She smiles at him and bats her lashes, saying "What would I do without you?" She is a master. I could gag.

The elder Mr. Richard remains where he is, his hands clasped behind his back, matching the daunting appearance of his home. When at last we have all disembarked from the carriage, he at last slowly makes his way over to us. He gives a short bow and says, "Welcome to our humble abode." If this is a 'humble abode' I'd love to see what his definition of a mansion was. "This is my wife, Eleanor Richard. Eleanor, Mr. Samuel Diedre, Mrs. Maya Diedre, and their children, Keene, Colista, Isabeau and Carlin."

We all smile, curtsy, bow and make all the appropriate exchanges of pleasantries. I play my part well, portraying the sweet, submissive, simple-minded girl I generally despise. Mr. Richard then snaps his fingers rather rudely and summons a young boy, who hastily picks up the first of our luggage. I pity him, it is going to take several trips to get mother and Collie's monstrous suitcases up the stairs. As he walks away, I can't help but notice there is something…off about him. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, he just didn't look right.

A plump, kindly looking woman comes to lead us to our rooms, and as we tour the halls, I am once again shocked at the sheer size of the hall. Our home is large compared to others in our town, but it is nothing compared to this luxurious building.

"Miss, this here is your room."

"Oh, thank you." My room is on the ground floor, with double-doors leading onto a terrace, bordering with the dark forest. Nearly the entire wall is covered with the cold glass, trimmed with rather old lace curtains. I shiver slightly, for something about the forest made me feel uneasy. It just seems like such an easy place to hide.

I turn around to ask the woman—Mrs. Parslow—a question concerning the forest, but to my displeasure find she has already departed. I sigh and sit on the edge of the lush bed. I feel strange, being here. Frightened, really. How many girls that lived here had disappeared? Three. All within the past century. It is no coincidence, I am sure. It has something to do with Audrey's disappearance, as well. And I am determined to get to the bottom of it.

Sometime later, Mrs. Parslow returns once again to inform me that dinner is soon and she will help me change. One hand on the dresser to steady myself as she mercilessly pulls the strings of my corset, I decide it is the opportune moment to ask some questions. I have to be very careful how I do this, I don't want her to think me silly, or anyone to suspect my doings.

"The Hill is very lovely," I start. She merely nods. I've never had someone attend to me before, but it seems that as a general rule one does not speak to their maid more than necessary. Too bad I've never followed the rules. "And the lake, quite beautiful." She nods again, causing me to hold back a frustrated sigh. I bite my lip, not sure how to proceed. "Though I must say, the woods do cause me some uneasiness. They seem a bit…menacing, don't you think?"

She shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, as if debating whether or not she should reply. "There be strange things in them woods," she states simply. I widen my eyes and turn to face her, encouraging her in her story. "My mum, she says to me when I was a little girl, 'Don't you go walking in those woods alone, you might not come back.' Auntie knew lots 'bout them ancient tales—you know, goblins and elves and such. She didn't talk 'bout it much, but there were stories, specially 'bout them girls 'round here."

"What girls?" I ask in a hushed whisper, though I am sure that I already know the answer.

Mrs. Parslow waves a hand in the air. "Ah, I can't remember the names."

"Is your mother still alive?"

Mrs. Parslow crosses her chest with her hand. "No, Mum passed into God's grace four years ago." I pull back, disappointed. It seems as if I will just have to figure things out for myself.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Here's the next chapter! So, this one is dedicated to Spoodles. Why? Because out of 89 hits, she's the only one who has reviewed...twice! Thanks Spoodles!  
**

**What's that? You want a chapter dedicated to you? All you have to do is...Review!! Easy, 30 seconds is all it takes! Thanks everyone =)

* * *

**

It's been nearly a week, and still no leads on Audrey's disappearance. I am beginning to despair, for the wedding is tomorrow and we will be leaving the day after that. I had come in with such hopes, but it seems luck isn't running in my favor. As usual.

Mother is chewing her porridge slowly—how one chews porridge, I don't know—and glaring at me as I slurp down my own muddy concoction. It's food, I remind myself. For all their money, apparently the Richards prefer to eat sludge as opposed to the warm, creamy dish I am accustomed to.

I don't even know what she is glaring at me for this time. Perhaps for my late night excursions of late. Perhaps for the fairy stories I've been filling Carlin's head with. Tales of goblins and elves and beautiful women and brave men. Tales I got from my ongoing research in the Hall's library. Or perhaps—and most likely—for my utter lack of interest in the upcoming wedding.

She clears her throat and begins to speak in the brisk tone that I know never to disobey. "I need you to run into town and pick up the flowers that have been ordered for tomorrow. It's just a short distance to walk, I'm sure you won't mind. Nora will accompany you," she says, naming the young girl who just began to work for the family. Colista's own maid, as a welcoming gift to the family.

"If you don't mind, Mother," I interrupt, "I would rather go alone." Her raised eyebrows and wide eyes alone tell me that this is unwelcome and unacceptable. I haste on anyway. "As you said, the town isn't too far away, and I won't be gone long. I'm sure Colista has much more important things for Nora to attend to." That seals the deal. Mentioning that the preferred daughter may have need of something automatically takes the need away from the less preferred daughter.

She nods her head in acquiescence just as Carl bounds buoyantly into the room. "Izzy!" he calls jovially, and wraps his arms around my waist. I ruffle his hair affectionately.

"Actually, take Carlin with you. He'll just be a nuisance around here." I watch Carl's face fall for half a second as he takes in this latest insult, then it rises again at the prospect of going somewhere with me. And just like that, the good luck I thought I had had is broken. I can't do anything if Carl's with me, for as much as I love him, he cannot keep a secret.

However, his small hand grips mine in anticipation, and I find myself agreeing against my better judgment.

The hot sun beats down upon us, and I feel my forehead covered in small beads of perspiration. Carl, on the other hand, is just happy to be out of the house. For the past few days he had been ignored and shoved to the side, rarely able to escape the oppressing walls of the Hall. He chatters on endlessly, speaking of this and that, while I find myself unable to completely focus on his words.

"Iz? Izzy? _Isabeau!" _he cries, his voice rising in pitch as he realized I haven't taken in a word he's said.

"What—Oh, sorry, Carl."

"Why weren't you listening to me?" he pouts, sticking out his plump bottom lip in a face that always melts my heart.

"Oh, Carlin I'm sorry. I guess I've just been a bit distracted lately."

"I know," he continues pouting. "I've hardly seen you, and when I have, you always looked distant."

"I'm sorry," I apologize for the millionth time. I realize I haven't been the greatest sister these past few days, and am now determined to make it up to him. "How about I get you a little treat, and we can stop by the lake before going home." His face lights up immediately, and the spring once again returns to his step.

Once in town, we stop by the candy store Carl had been begging to go to. I tried to convince him to go for something that would last—perhaps a toy soldier, or a ten-penny-book, but he had his heart set on a dark chocolate covered toffee. Where he had even tried one in the first place, I had no idea.

So that is how I found myself in the middle of the candy store, as the clerk held a package of wrapped candy out to me impatiently, fishing through my bag for the correct change.

"Oh, shoot. Here's a penny…What did you say the total was again? Right…a nickel." I pull out an old button, give a slightly nervous giggle at the man's rude expression, and continue searching. "I'm sure I have more somewhere…"

"Here, allow me," says a deep voice behind me, and I here the clang of coins on the stone counter. The clerk looks gratified, but I turn to tell this stranger that I do not need his charity.

"Sir," I begin, but am taken aback when my gaze finally lands on him. He is tall, perhaps six and a half feet, and wears a dark black cloak pulled over his head, camouflaging his face, though I can still make out his mouth. He is smiling at me, but the smile seems somehow…wrong. I can't put a finger on it, perhaps it is the slightly brown color of his lips, or the misshapen teeth, or the way it curves up at the corners.

"You were saying?" he continues for me in a mocking—yet somehow still polite—tone.

I clear my throat and begin again. "Sir, I thank you, but I don't need charity."

He gives a booming laugh, and I take a step backward. "Oh, but this isn't charity. I was rather hoping you would do something for me in return." He raises an eyebrow at me questioningly. I do not reply. "My wife is unwell. She just moved here, and I believe she is lonely. Would you mind visiting her? Someone so similar to her in age like yourself would surely raise her spirits."

I bite my lip, unsure what to do. He seems like a kind enough man, but I do not know him, or his wife. "I'm sorry, but I'm really very busy." I pull Carlin a little closer, as if to illustrate the point.

"Oh, who is this handsome man?" he asks, squatting down so that his head is even with Carl's.

"I'm Carlin," he replies, trying to sound mature.

"How old are you? Twelve? Thirteen?"

Carl giggles, and I am shocked at how good this stranger is with my little brother. "I'm eight. But I'm tall! And I'm strong!"

"Yes, I can see that. I bet you like to help people, you're so strong it would be easy for you."

He nods enthusiastically. "Uh huh. I'm a good helper. Izzy told me so."

"Izzy?" the man asks questioningly, raising an eyebrow at me.

"It's Isabeau," I tell him.

"Ah. So, Carlin, would you like to help me?" Carlin nods again. "Well, I need a little favor from your sister. Only, she is a little unwillingly." His voice has taken on a calm, soothing tone. It lulls up and down in pitch, almost hypnotically. I find myself wondering why I hadn't just said yes in the first place.

Carl turns his big eyes toward me. "Why, Izzy? He just wants some help."

"Oh…kay…" I say slowly. The man smiles at me, but again it somehow seems wrong.

He offers his arm to me, and I take it, still feeling a little dazed. I grab Carl's hand and we walk out of the shop, Carlin sucking contentedly on his chocolate.

"Excuse me," I say after a moment. "But I don't believe I know your name. We'vetold you ours, so what isyours?"

He stops walking for the shortest moment, turning his hooded head to me. He answers, "Marak."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Hello everyone! I had a plan for this story, but I sort of threw it out the window and now I'm making it up as it comes to me, so I hope you enjoy. **

**This is my favorite story to write, so I'd really, really appreciate the reviews. Is it worthwhile to keep going? Review for me and I'll review for you :)

* * *

  
**

The next thing I know, I'm lying of a lavish four-poster bed, complete with silk sheets and luxurious pillows. I sit up quickly, and at first, I think the stranger—Marak—was all a dream. But as I look around, I recognize nothing, and realize it must be true. Why did I agree to this? I remember being so certain it would be a bad idea, but then for some reason my will just melted, and I followed him. I'll just have to tell him we had to be leaving.

The room I am in is large, and the walls made of stone. Not the kind of stone I am used to, but almost as if this room has been carved out of actual rock. But that is crazy. It's nicely decorated: thick carpets, a tall mirror, and wide windows with the fancy curtains drawn shut. I feel out of place here, and am glad to see that I remain in my own simple dress.

A sudden thought comes to me, and I am shocked it took me even this long. Carlin! Where is he? I rush to the wooden door and crank it open quickly, only to come face to—hood with Marak. "Hello," he says politely.

"Where's Carlin?" I demand.

He holds his hands out as if to calm me. "He is in the next room down, still sleeping. You may see him, if you like."

I walk out into the vast hall and wrench open the next door, then breathe a sigh of relief as I see my little brother lying peacefully among the sheets. "See," Marak says, "He is fine. Now come with me, there are things we must talk about."

I follow behind him reluctantly, not sure where he is taking me. He walks fast, but turns around every once in a while to make sure I am following him. I glance around the halls as we walk, surprised by the wide ceilings, cold stone and lack of windows. Where are we? What happened? Why have I seen no other people in these halls? I am frightened.

Marak takes many twists and turns through the winding corridors, and I am certain I shall never be able to find my way back again. Even with my fear, however, I cannot help but admire the beauty of wherever we are. It's as if I have stepped into a mystical paradise. The most beautiful thing I could imagine, this was more beautiful than.

Suddenly they approached a wide staircase, and I was shocked to see it was made of solid gold bricks, as was the floor at the top. Two figures stood guard at the bottom of them, backs facing us.

"This way," Marak gestured up the staircase. Who was this man, who marched the halls like he owned this vast castle? Who took my brother and I without us knowing where we were going? Who is he, where are we, why are we here?"

I turn one last time as I mounted the staircase, and let out a horrified scream. I collapse to the ground, shaking. "Isabeau!" exclaims Marak. He squats down beside me and tries to pat my shoulder comfortingly.

"No! No!" Get away from me!" I shriek. My worst fears had just been realized. When I had turned around, I had caught sight of one of the guards. His face was all wrong. His eyes too wide, pupils to small. His skin the wrong shade, and his lips almost gray in their color. He was too tall, and extremely burly, but that wasn't the worst part. From either side of his nose grew two enormous, ivory tusks, disfiguring the lower half of his face. This man was not human. "What are you?" I cry.

"We're goblins," Marak responded, which is when I passed out.

I woke later, reclining on a couch, with Marak the goblin sitting before me. I close my eyes again. I couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. How could I have been so _stupid?_

"It's okay, Isabeau," he soothes.

"Don't talk to me," I snap, and he falls silent. "I want to go home," I whisper, and my voice has lost all its strength.

He shakes his head sadly and stands up from the chair he was sitting in to move closer to me. "I can't let you do that."

"Why?" I feel dangerously close to tears, but won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

He doesn't answer directly. "I'm sure you have questions. About me, my people."

"Yes actually, I do. Wait—your people?" It suddenly hits me. "You're…You're the king?" I ask, incredulous.

"Yes, I am the Goblin King, Marak Hawkeye." For the first time he lowers his hood, and I let out a small whimper as I take in his distorted face. It is not quite as shocking as the goblin with the tusks, but still a frightening sight. His eyes are too round to be human, the pupil large and quick moving, constantly observing the surroundings. I gasp as I realize his name literally did come from his eyes. They are the eyes of a hawk! His skin is not exactly wrong but not…right. It has a strange tinge to it, though not grotesque. His hair is wrong, too. It is the right texture, but has the same speckled pattern you would find on the feathers of a bird. And his mouth. It curved strangely, the brown lips seemed permanently smiling, but it was not a kind smile. Almost mocking, a little frightening. I bury my face in my arms and tell myself it's not real.

"Isabeau, listen to me. _Look _at me. I'm not so different from you. I have hands, feet, arms, and legs. I speak and walk like you. What are you afraid of?"

"I want to go home," I repeat.

"I need your help. I can't let you leave."

"Please," I beg, hating myself for it. "I have a life at home. I have a family. I have a sister getting married. I have friends. I have Kevin."

My arguments seem to have no affect at him. He looks at me with pity, but as if he has heard this argument a few too many times. He sighs. "Would you like to see Audrey now?"

"Audrey?" I ask incredulously.

"My wife."

So it is true then. She did get kidnapped by goblins. Like Carl and me. But at least I am not married to one of them.

"Where is she?"

He leads me to a door at the end of the parlor we had been sitting in. He opens it a slips into the dark room. I follow, uncertain what I will find on the other side. An emaciated version of the girl I knew? Or perhaps now she has claws, or fangs, so she can match her husband.

"Audrey," Marak calls softly, lighting up the room with a wave of his hand and some mumbled words I can't make out. Great. Not only was I trapped with goblins, but these goblins could use magic, too.

"Yes?" a quiet voice replies. I see a blonde head spilling over the many sheets and blankets piled on her. If I had thought my room was luxurious, this one makes it seem dingy. It truly is fit for a king with its wide windows overlooking the grounds of the palace, lush red comforter, and walls lined with books and treasures alike.

Marak goes to her, and I grimace as she allows him to kiss her cheek. He gestures to me to come over, and Audrey looks up from her bed. "Isabeau!" she cries out. I rush to her and kneel beside her bed and grip her hand, sobbing. I may not have known her well before, but being together in this dark and mysterious world, I am just glad to know anyone. She strokes my head with her other hand.

"You know each other?" Marak questions, surprised.

"Marak, why is she here?" Audrey demands.

"I brought her to bring you company."

I lift my tear streaked face to look at her, she seems all right. She looks the same as when I last saw her, though she looks sleep-deprived. Her blonde hair is wild about her head, as if she has been tossing and turning, and her brown eyes ringed slightly by crescents. She stares at me for a moment, her eyes resting on my forehead, then sighs resignedly. "Oh, Izzy, I'm so pleased to see you."

"You too, Audrey. I was so worried about you."

There is a knock on the door, and the guard that I had seen earlier enters. "Marak," he says with a bow. "You are needed. Aganir Aiken is awaiting you in the Truce Circle."

Marak nods. "Ladies, I'll leave you alone. Hastin, let's go." And he departs.

The other goblin bows again, this time to Audrey, and leaves as well.

I look to Audrey again. "We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" she says.

"I'm…confused." I sum up all my feelings into that one nondescript word.

"I know you are." She pats my hand. "What can I do?"

"Just tell me what happened."

I pull up a plush arm chair and make myself as comfortable as I can in this strange place. Audrey takes a deep breath and begins her tale.

"It was about a month ago now, wasn't it? Mother and Father had sent me into town to pick up some things for them at the marked. It didn't take me long, I was done before dinner. But I ran into some friends. Keeley, Josh and Nicholas. They invited me to the inn with them for dinner, and I didn't want to be rude and say no. We had a great time, but before I knew it, it was almost midnight! I knew Mother and Father would be furious if I didn't get home, for they had sent me out hours before. I tried to find a carriage or a pony to borrow, but none were available. So I decided to walk. I had done it many times before, though never at night.

"I was about halfway home. Stupid girl that I was I decided to take a shortcut through the woods. Suddenly, I was surrounded by black hooded figures, and they grabbed me and shoved me onto a horse. I tried to scream, but they hand my mouth gagged. I must have fainted somewhere along the way, for when I woke up I was being scrubbed down by all sorts of creatures. Goblin and dwarf women, I found out later. I screamed and cried the whole time, but no one sound came out. I begged to go home, but they didn't hear. They just restrained my and continued their painting on my arm. Tests, I was told. They forced me into a horrible dress, completely inappropriate for a lady, and forced me into the hallway, where Marak was waiting.

"That was the first time I really saw his face. I started crying again, and was too weak on my feet to stand. His face frightened me at first, those strange eyes. He's what they call elf-pretty, though. Not as frightening as, say, Hastin." She smiles at me, knowing somehow that he is the one who scared me. "I was lead through a crowded room, full of the most grotesque assembly of faces I've ever seen. No one spoke to me. I don't think I was really away of what was going on, for my memories of that night are hazy. The only thing I can really remember is when he cut my hands and when he placed the King's Wife Charm on me." She holds out her hands to show two long silverfish scars running down her palms. "Life lines," she answers before I can ask. Then she pulls down the collar of her lace nightgown, and I can see a golden snake tattooed across her skin. "Don't threaten me, Isabeau, or he'll bite you," she says playfully, though I am not sure if she is serious or not.

"Anyway, then it was over. I hadn't even realized what happened. Marak took me back here and gave me something to drink. I was finally able to talk again, but couldn't find any words. Just tears. 'Welcome,' he said, 'To the Goblin Kingdom. I am the king, Marak Hawkeye, and you are now my queen.' Not exactly the most comforting thing he could have said, but he is good to me. So here I am, a month later, queen of the goblins. I feel so guilty, that most of my own subjects make me want to cry."

"It's not your fault, Audrey!" I protest. "They are hideous, horrible beasts!" She shakes her head.

"No, Izzy. You are blinded by fear and hatred. They are not horrible. Hideous, maybe, but I suppose you can get used to it in time. They are very kind to me. Marak promises me anything I can want, except for, or course, to return home. He even brought you to me. And all the goblins are so kind. They bring me my favorite flowers, or my favorite food. They are quite polite."

I am not willing to believe she is defending the people who kidnapped her and stole away her life. "Listen," I whisper. "Carlin is here too. Tonight, we'll come up to get you. Pretend like we want to go for a stroll. Then, when no one is looking, we'll make our escape. Run through the doors and not stop. We can go home."

I knew before I finished she was going to say no. "There are so many reasons that wouldn't work, Isabeau. First, I can't go anywhere alone. Marak has guards escort me whenever I want to leave, at least for the time being. I haven't even left this room in a few days. Second, they would catch us. They have horses and magic, and we have nothing. "Last, and I'm sorry to tell you this, but neither of us can ever leave. We've both got the Door Charm." She traces a spot on my forehead. "That is how the doors know never to let anyone out. They are huge, iron, and while rather unintelligent, they would never open for us." I blink, puzzled, for she is talking as though the doors are alive.

"Isabeau," she whispers. "I don't want to leave."


End file.
